


A Night in the Life of a Friend/Babysitter

by LadyNighteyes



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: Best friends~, Community: fic_promptly, Drunkenness, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNighteyes/pseuds/LadyNighteyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ONE of them ought to stay sober, at the very least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night in the Life of a Friend/Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> Filling [my own prompt](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/230458.html?thread=9331770) like a ~~boss~~ complete loser with no life.

"I wanna go back inside."

"No, Raynie." Marco pulled on her arm, wishing he was tall enough to drag her around bodily, like a _normal_ person with a very drunk friend.

"Why not?"

"Because the bartender asked us to leave," he said patiently. (Actually, what she had said had been, "Somebody get that maniac out of here before she kills someone," but that was usually how Raynie getting kicked out of bars went.)

"S-screw that," she said with an inordinate amount of cheerfulness. "I want another drink."

"No, you don't," said Marco. He pulled on her arm again, trying to get her to move, but while she was swaying slightly, she didn't seem inclined to take another step. He briefly considered trying a recovery spell to sober her up, but the last few times he'd done that, she'd taken it as an excuse to get drunk all over again. He didn't particularly relish the thought of another three hours of bar-hopping.

"Do t-too," said Raynie, hiccuping. "'m not that drunk. Not 'lowed to kick me out. 's not like I did anything."

Marco refrained from mentioning the man she'd almost set on fire, who had probably only survived because she was too drunk to aim the spell properly. "C'mon, Raynie," he said, trying to push her forward from behind. She began to tip forward, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to fall flat on her face, but then she took a step and caught herself at the last second. "You can get a drink at home, and it's free."

"I can?" she said, brightening up. She took another step, and Marco silently rejoiced. "Thought I f-finished off the booze..." She almost tripped as Marco herded her down the stairs, and he had to awkwardly steady her from the step above. "Where's Stocke?" she asked, suddenly.

"He went home four hours ago, Raynie." Marco continued pushing her along, wincing when a nearby leaky pipe decided to unleash a blast of steam in his direction.

"Awww. I wanted to go home with him."

"I think you'd have to talk to him about that beforehand," said Marco diplomatically, guiding her out of the way of a patrolling night watchman. Marco saw the pointed front of the man's helmet turn to follow them as they passed.

"But I dun' wanna try 'n ask him when 'm sober. 's embarrassing," she mumbled. "An' if 'm drunk and he's not, 'll say no."

Marco had to admit, that was a much more logical train of thought than he was expecting. "If you can't bear to ask him out sober, you shouldn't be trying to seduce him when you're not," he said reasonably. "Besides, he's our CO. He's not really supposed to be fraternizing with subordinates anyway."

"Yeah, but he's _hot_." She hiccuped again, and Marco hoped she wasn't going to get sick. That was the last thing he needed to deal with right now. "'sides, doesn't count if we're drunk."

Marco had serious doubts about whether their commander was even capable of getting drunk, given how unconscious the man's use of healing magic often seemed to be, but he kept them to himself. "I'm not sure he would see it that way," he said instead.

"Uuuuuugh, Marc, you're such a..." She trailed off, a perplexed note in her voice as she failed to find the word she was looking for. She settled on, "You dun' know how to have fun." He didn't dignify that with a response, occupied with steering her around a corner. "Where we goin'?" she mumbled, though thankfully, momentum kept her moving. "Home's that way," she added, waving vaguely in an arc that managed to cover a plethora of entirely wrong directions.

"They moved us, remember?" Marco said. Heiss had put them up in temporary quarters, but they'd been moved into the barracks proper when they'd been transferred. "C'mon, up the stairs," he added, as Raynie came to a teetering halt, apparently confused by this new obstacle. He half-dragged her up the steps and through the door, pondering to himself how underappreciated a luxury flat ground had been until he moved to this city.

"What're you lookin' at?" she demanded of the man on duty at the front of the building, back in belligerent mode. He couldn't be more than sixteen, and his sniggering stopped abruptly when lightning started gathering around the woman's hand.

Marco pulled her arm back down wearily. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. Let's go."

"But he's lookin' at me funny!" she said, still glaring at the unfortunate soldier.

"That's because you're drunk. Come _on_."

"'m not drunk," she said sulkily, but she at least looked away from the poor sap. That was progress, in Marco's eyes.

"It's not much farther now," he soothed, guiding her in the direction of their room. He gave the guard an apologetic look as he passed.

This part of the barracks was, Marco suspected, probably servants' quarters back when the castle was just an outpost belonging to Granorg. The lines of tiny rooms were cramped, dark, and often cold, far as they were from the main steam pipelines that warmed most of the civilian housing nowadays. It was, he supposed, better than living in a normal barracks and sharing space with dozens of other soldiers, but it was hard to remember that when there was barely enough room for both their bunks, let alone their personal effects. He did his best to guide his friend around a rather large bag of medical supplies he'd purchased earlier that day, but she stumbled anyway. Surprisingly, she managed to catch herself- or at least, fall halfway onto the bed instead of flat on the floor- but Marco winced as he heard glass crack. He'd have to clean that up later.

It took a bit of awkward manhandling to get her sitting upright, and far more sweet-talking than should have been necessary to convince her to take off her boots before she went to bed. He was thoroughly exhausted and equally exasperated by the time that he felt secure in climbing into his own bunk and flicking off the magical light in the corner. He was getting comfortably settled in when he heard, "Hey, Marc!"

He tried to ignore it, burrowing deep into his bedding. Being short did have one advantage- there was always lots of extra blanket to hide under.

"C'm'n Marc, talk t' me." He could hear the pout in her voice.

"I said _goodnight_ , Raynie," he said, muffled by the blanket.

"Yeah, but thass stupid. 'm not tired," said her voice from out of the darkness. "Why'dja have to turn the light off, huh? 's all dark."

"It's two in the morning," said Marco, pulling the covers down below his chin so his words were heard clearly. "Dark comes with the territory. Go to sleep."

"Dun wanna. 'm turnin' the lights back on. Where's th' switch? I wan' another drink." He heard the bed creak as she sat up, and groaned with annoyance.

Marco usually tried to keep his magic to himself; Raynie, he'd always felt, would do better to deal with her own hangovers, especially if she'd driven him up the wall the night before. And, as had been drilled into his head by some long-ago medical instructor, sedatives or sleeping magic usually didn't play well with alcohol. But if he was going to get any sleep at this rate, well... Marco stuck an arm out from the safety of his bunk, reached for his magic, and pointed in the direction of Raynie's bed.

The first faintly glowing ball of magic hit her smack in the chest. The light of the second spell was just enough to reveal a split-second freeze-frame of her very confused expression as the recovery magic yanked her back to relative sobriety. Then that light winked out as well, and he heard a dull thud as Raynie keeled back over onto the mattress. Sleep spells always seemed to work best when the target was disoriented, he'd found. Marco turned over, smiling with satisfaction as he settled in.

At least, for about ten seconds, before the snoring began.

Marco groaned and pulled his pillow over his head.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
